Or, as they say in the rowing world, Ready All, Row!
Yesterday I received a medal in the mail. A bronze medal. Remember this? Well, our boat won a medal. (OK, OK, so there were only three boats in the race. I’m still proud of the medal.) It was kind of nice opening the mailbox and finding a bulky envelope with my name on it. And it was kind of nice to have to wait for the medal. The race was several weeks ago, true, but receiving the medal through the mail just helped me relive the great experience. It took me back to that day. That day that was about me and my former self and a community of athletes that I am still a part of, even if only for a day here and there, when I can fit in the opportunities.
And it got me thinking. What if we got medals for mothering? I’m sure I’m not the first mom to have had this thought. I mean, surely we’ve all had days where we’ve managed miracles. Answering the phone while changing a poopy diaper. Navigating the wills of a toddler and still making it to the pediatrician’s office on time. Finding a snack in the glove compartment during an unexpected traffic jam on the way back from an impromptu trip to your sister’s. (For instance.) But no one gives medals to moms. Not for these everyday accomplishments. Not for getting dinner on the table. Not for changing the sheets. Or building a Lego tower or getting a sick baby to sleep. Shall I go on? No. You all know these things. You could add and add and add and add to this list. And at the end of the day, nobody would be waiting with a medal to place over your head so that you could boast of your great accomplishments. And nobody would be able to say, “Wow! What a great medal! Where did that come from? Are you the BEST mom in the world?”
But you know what? We all are. We are the best moms. (OK. Not all of us. Of COURSE there are exceptions. Women who need more help than others. Women who need support, maybe even intervention. But MOST moms? Most are the best moms in the world.) And our kids do know it. I know if I take the time to listen to my kids, especially when I am busiest, they tell me. They throw their arms around my neck and hug me tight. Sometimes I do hear the words, “You’re the best mommy in the universe.” (Usually I have just made cookies, or banana bread, or breakfast for dinner. Or, in rare cases of non-food-related praise, bought them a book at the grocery store.) And I need to stand tall or maybe bow when I hear these words. I need to absorb them. Into my mommy soul. Because. It’s. True. I do everything for these kids. And sometimes they notice. Even when in my mind the list is never ending. The laundry still needs to be done. The floors need to be washed. The jeans need to be patched up. And the baby doll’s hair needs to be untangled. But they don’t see the biggest picture, these kids. They see the now. Like in an athletic endeavor, they look at what’s right in front of them. And they appreciate the littlest accomplishments. And they reward me for them. Even if I don’t always come in first place.
Those hugs, they’re like medals. Want one? Grab our button. It’s our medal to you.
And start telling us about your medals, because Five for Ten starts right NOW! On your mark, get set, go!
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Love this post! I think so many moms are too critical. They blame themselves for imperfection. (Raising hand.) I know I look at other moms and think about my missteps and mistakes. But what we should be thinking about is how amazing we are.
Thanks for this sweet way to start my Sunday.
–KB
Hi Karen! Thanks for leading off Five for Ten. I hope your day is medal-worthy. Of COURSE it will be. :)
What a great post to launch Five for Ten.
As Karen noted, we moms are too critical of ourselves. But I think we’re also way too critical of each other. Of course nothing matters as much or feels as good as the affirmation our kids give us with their verbal and physical praise, but wouldn’t it be nice to have one of those actual medals to wear, to make others pause before they judge? Maybe it would also make us pause before we judge ourselves.
I like this: “Maybe it would also make us pause before we judge ourselves.” Because I DO judge myself. Way too much. And the kids always have a smile or a hug. But I’m so often too preoccupied with the to-dos that I brush them aside. :( Trying to change this!
Unsurprisingly love this post and this medal metaphor. I love it for many reasons – because we do SO much, so many things many of which go unnoticed. But many of which are noticed and appreciated. With virtual medals of many types. I also love this because it is suggestive of the competition inherent within parenthood. Competition (often unnecessary and emblematic of insecurity) with each other and competition with ourselves. We are always striving. To be more. To be better. To win that enigmatic medal.
Thanks for this great kick-off post!
Aidan. You win a medal for your comment! (Not that there’s a competition here, mind you.) I don’t think we’ll ever stop striving as moms, but maybe if we keep reminding each other, we will be more ready to see the medals of our days.
Wow! I am more enthralled with your blog now than before. Yesterday, I got a medal but didn’t realize it. My college-aged son’s coach told me how fantastic he is with recruits, how hospitable he is when asked to share his meager living space with another person overnight.
I hope you all get your medals today!!!
YAY! Isn’t it wonderful when we hear from others about the successes of our children. A medal indeed. Yay for your son. And for you. Because his successes are yours, too. Hang a medal around your neck!
So many days I lay in my bed at the end of a VERY long day and want to pat myself on the back that everyone is still in one piece. But I also lay in bed and criticize myself for not reading enough to the kids, not doing some art project with them, not being patient enough, not dealing with a tantrum in the “right” way… Not doing ENOUGH. I judge myself so harshly. Maybe it’s because up until I was in this job as a mom, I was in places where I got graded, I got trophies, I got reviewed, I got merit increases, I got promotions, etc. Now, there’s no one to judge how I’m performing. Just me. And when I’m surrounded by other moms who always seem so medal-worthy, I sometimes don’t seem to measure up.
This is one thing I have found so amazing about the blogging world… I always seem to find SOMEONE out there who does understand, who has also been there, who makes me feel like I am doing this well or at least as well as THEY’RE doing it. And that gets me through to start all over again in the morning. I need to start realizing that the hugs I get, the thank you’s I hear and the smiles I see from my kids and husband are just as good as a medal… thank you for helping me to make that connection!
As always, hurray for a wonderful, thought provoking, beautiful post!
Oh my goodness I am going to nearly lose my mind! I just wrote what I consider to be a very hearty comment and then POOF! Shoot me, I cannot stand it when the Internet eats up my words and I can’t get them back.
Let me try to recreate it here….
Measuring up. It is so hard when you find yourself surrounded by other mothers -aat a school function or the sidelines at little league – and you are making just as many subconscious generalizations and judgments about them as they are about you. You don’t even know what you are trying to measure up to, but you fixate on it anyway. I keep thinking about the post that Jen wrote on Tolerance vs. Acceptance in motherhood. It has changed a lot of the ways I think about myself in terms of other mothers. For the good. For the oh so very very good.
And this post. I was crying after I read it. Every word is sheer perfection. I don’t need a room full of silver and gold, but I would like a little praise from time to time. Jen has given me the opportunity to see the little happy words from my boys’ mouths, the little gestures of their little hands, as a far more profound gift. A thing to keep me going when things aren’t always so grand. A badge to look back at.
I love love love this post and I love love love the mind of my sister.
Nice job on this one Jen! Any good parent (0r the ones that try) whether mother or father question themselves. It is the ones that don’t that we should all worry about. After reading this post, I say I will take my metal when my kids grow up, become loving, honest, caring, hardworking and contributing adults that try to pass on the same to their kids. After all that is what my wife and I TRY to do every day…make our kids good human beings. But we do have our hang-ups and question ourselves every night.
The questioning and self-doubt can be exhausting, can’t it? I think it is finally recognized that there is no manual for this parenting gig. That we don’t always know what we are doing. (Ahem, hardly know what we are doing?) And that we need to go easier on ourselves and each other. I am living proof that sometimes no matter what you teach your kids and no matter what kind of life you provide they can still go off the deep end for a while. So because of that I will take my medals daily. In the form of small accomplishments. And hope that they carry me through the times that aren’t always so sweet. You know, when my boys are all teenagers and barely want to talk to me. Awesome…I’m totally stoked for that time.
Ha! I’m a firm believer in the deep end. Hey – it’s inevitable anyway, so why not embrace it?
As for the future when your teen boys won’t talk, I’ve got news for you… you never know! I have one talker (what a relief), and another “mystery kid.” I keep asking for data, a vector, a coordinate or two. Eventually I get some… yeah, they don’t WANT to talk to you but if they want to eat (and they always want to eat), they kinda sorta have to.
Love this. Great image and so right. I feel like society tells us that the rewards of motherhood ought to be enough that we don’t need a medal or any other kind of acknowledgment – and sometimes that is true – but let’s face it we all want to hear we are doing a good job!
So, thanks for sharing this.
xo
Yeah, it’s just so dang hard to always be patting yourself on the back. To be pulling up your boot straps. To be convincing yourself that your decisions are sound. That you are not so quite off your rocker as you thought.
Motherhood. Holy shit it’s exhausting. We wouldn’t trade it but by golly can we just get a Here, Here, that we’re doing alright?!
:)
I was JUST telling my husband how I deserved an award for changing a diaper, uploading pictures to Walgreens, talking on the phone and watching my neighbors baby! I think my biggest reward actually came last night when I tucked my son into bed and he said “I love you Mama” I cried! That was better than any of my swimming trophies or school awards!
I do agree that women are too critical of each other, which does nothing in building bridges or supporting those women who do need a little help. I will NEVER forget when I walked over to my neighbors house with her new baby and she just started crying. She couldn’t get her baby to latch but was too scared she would look like a bad mommy to ask for help. It was eye opening. Thankfully, we have grown closer now and we both can ask for help, even in our worse moments!
The story about your neighbor and her new baby makes me think again about Jen’s post on how Motherhood had made her braver. And trust me, it has. For me and for her. We are both willing to ask for help now, even if it is awkward, but as brand new mothers with brand new babies it seemed an impossible thing – like admitting you had failed at something you were sure would be so natural to you.
I am envious that you have a neighbor to rely on. Since we moved to this house eighteen months ago we have yet to make friends with our neighbors. It is a gift to be able to rely on people that live so near to you. I thank my lucky stars that Jen is only an hour away, and that my town is peppered with many great women who I know if I had the opportunity to spend some time with, we’d form some great friendships.
… As long as it’s a medal for mothering and not a mettling mother…
HEY – I survived a TEEN PARTY! The first of Son #2 – and better yet, the kids survived! (And the last one just left… it’s 1pm Sunday… that’s a record around here.) Does that deserve a medal? (Maybe some drunken writing.)
Happy Sunday – and go for the GOLD! (It’s the “mother” lode.)
BLW
snort, snort, guffaw!
medal for mothering, not mettling mother…
you keep us on our toes over here, Wolfie. Tippy toes, at that!
Congrats on the party. On the survival for both mother and son and friends. I will be calling on you for advice in like 10 years. Shit, only 10 years? Shit shit shit.
Drunken writing challenge is next. December. So jot down a list of ideas for yourself and do a bit of prep work, would ya? I’m expecting something spectacular from you….3/4 drunk. Wahoo!
BLW – survival is a good thing! You deserve a medal and some drunken writing. Can’t wait to read it!!
Hint Hint: the drunken writing will be our next “contest” of sorts here at Momalom. In December. Inspired by the Drunken Rambling on my Optimistic Clitoris post last week, wherein I wrote 3/4 drunk and was both pleased and surprised with the outcome. Don’t worry, if you are not a drinker you can still participate…it’ll be based on the premise of daring writing. Yup, I’m already excited about it.
It’s really hard finding the balance in parenting between “good enough” and “striving for something better.” Some days I think that I’m doing pretty well–the kids are happy, smart, and kind, the marriage is a wonderful partnership, and the house is running relatively smoothly–and other times I think that I’m not doing enough (yell too much, don’t teach enough, nag incessantly, serve crappy food, etc.). Most of that insecurity comes from comparing myself to someone else’s outside image. Just as people look at me and see a seemingly calm, homeschooling mom of four who somehow “does it all,” I look at others and see moms who knit sweaters, run the PTA, eat only organic, and teach their kids latin. Yeah, they probably have lazy afternoons on facebook, grouchy impatient mornings, and cars that smell like locker rooms and rancid milk, but I don’t see that.
I guess I should just try to have a healthy (huge caveat) competition with myself for “mom of the year.” That way I’ll always win.
In the end we all win, right? As long as we keep our eyes on ourselves and on our kids – on our own homes and challenges, accomplishments, flaws and failures. It just feels so impossible sometimes and I get stuck in a trap of peeking over at Jordan’s mommy as she scoops him up on the playground. I’m wondering how she can look so good, be so calm, have brushed hair. Or I’m looking over at Michael’s mom who’s got a baby in a sling and I’m wondering if I’m even good enough to strike up a conversation with her because she’s got it all pulled together: snacks in tow, bpa-free water bottles, bandaids even. And here I am wondering – outloud – where my child has run off to, what on earth we are going to eat for dinner, all the while texting with Jen while I push a swing.
So. Where am I going with this? Back to the first couple of lines, I guess. We have to keep our eyes on ourselves and then we’re all okay. We are all our own harshest critics anyway.
Oh. And I hereby award you mom of the year. Homeschooling four? For that, among a million other things, you deserve it!
I think this is a great idea. I thought I deserved a medal for giving birth to a 9 pound 14 ounce baby boy. He looked like a toddler. You should have seen the look on the doctor’s face!
Oh, I hear ya. My third was 9 pounds 14 ounces. In fact, each subsequent baby has been 1.5 pounds MORE than the last. So if you think I’m going for a 4th, uh, NO. Because there is just NO NEED for an 11.5-pound baby. We moms of big newborns deserve a special brand of medal, dontcha think? (Sarah had a 10 pound 3 ouncer…)
Um, right. I was gonna say. 10, 3 takes the cake in our extended family, no? That darn kid totally came out looking like a toddler. Skipped past the free diapers from the hospital and the first round of clothes from well-intentioned gift givers. A medal? Frankly I think my vagina deserves a medal…not to be crass, but…oh well. It’s true.
OMG I’m always telling my friends about how afraid I am that birthing will “ruin” my vagina! LOL
Nah, don’t worry. You’ll recover. Both physically and mentally. We are meant for this shit! As crazy as it all is.
Oh – what a great idea for an etsy store making medals for everyday triumphs. This bears research.
If you could click on a button, spend $2 and send a little round pickmeup, would you?
This is a GREAT idea. Great for others to send as small recognitions or greatness, and great for us all to boost our egos a little bit. Yes, research it. Keep us posted!
I have an etsy shop I created for my daughter. I have some ideas. I think with a laminator and an inket, I’ll be all set. $2 plus $0.42 s&h. I will have mockups this week!
Oh I so totally love this idea! Truly, truly.
I wear my medal(s) of motherhood everyday. Who wants an Oscar when you can have 2 saggy tits.
Ooh. Ha ha ha. I like this take on medal-hood/motherhood. Yup. Two saggy tits indeed. Those are some GOLDEN medals, mama.
Oh – totally snorted coffee out my nose at this. Two words: twin skin
Ah yes. Just another reason you are my other sisterly pig bitch. Golden Globes.
Just yesterday, my kiddo made a card for his biological father that read, “I love you so much and wish you could live in my house because I love you.” This devastated my mountain man and really hurt me … and then later he curled up between us and talked our ears off about what a fantastic day he had.
It was really hard to hear the medal in that, but after reading your post, I’m not just hearing it — I’m feeling it, too. I’ll be sharing the message with the man so that hopefully he can feel it, too.
Oh, Kelly. This is such a truth of motherhood. Validating our children’s feelings and emotions even when those same feelings and emotions hurt us. My lower lip is puckered out for you. You know what, though? What a GREAT mom you are that your son can share his real feelings with all of the parents in his life. You do deserve a medal. And a shiny one at that.
I love my medals. The “you are the best mom in the universe” or “I have the best life ever” or “I love my family.” I treasure those words. What’s more interesting to me is that they often come after a particularly rough emotional day in our household. It’s not just the days that we can meet his emotional needs, but it’s the days that he knows that we can handle the bad things, too. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart.
Amen to THAT. Motherhood is NOT for the faint of heart. And my son can ALWAYS tell when I need an extra “I love you.” They are very perceptive, these little people under our roofs.
This weekend I would’ve earned the “Take tween to the mall with her birthday money” achievement. To qualify for the event you must first have a tween daughter with birthday money burning a hole in her little consumerist pocket. The event includes shoe and accessory shopping. If you both make it out alive, with items and minimal meltdowns, you win!
Extra points if your kid totally donates her $3 and change to March of Dimes. Because she wants to help sick babies.
Your Tween wins a medal, too. Both of you do. And I’m glad you recognize your achievement. These days are only a few years off for me, and one of the things about this blog that has been surprisingly fulfilling has been the parents of older kids who are sharing with us their experiences and expertise. It has allowed me to enjoy the moments of baby and toddler and early-school mayhem that sometimes threaten to drive me off the EDGE.
OMG! You both deserve more than one medal! My teens – much worse than tweens – loved the mall. Unfortunately for them, I was unhappy about the behaviour of other teens at the mall and it took to #5 before I would let them go to the mall unattended. LOL
Congratulations!!
Oh man, I remember the mall outings. Such a tragic use of teenage time, and yet they need to have space to be away and be safe so I understand but really….yucky. I remember going. And wandering. And…oh man I’ll never be ready for teenagers. But on the flip side, I’m sure we’ll all do ok.
You know, I think one of the things that makes it especially hard to give yourself a (metaphorical) medal is that medals or kudos of any kind usually imply comparison. And there’s always someone doing it better, or you could always be doing better, or, or… but I think being able to recognize that we’re doing our best, and that’s enough (assuming it is, enough for the situation)– I think that right there might be medal-w0rthy.
And here’s my medal mom moment today: I would totally have gotten everybody to church on time, except for the last-minute suddenly-absolutely-necessary (you KNOW what I’m talking about) diaper change! Woohoo.
What IS it about these kids? Mine always needs a change as we are leaving the house. Always. Are the youngest ones trying to build up our mommy medal resistance with this behavior?
Love it. Much needed praise for the job we do. Moreover, much needed reminder that we often GET the praise, but we don’t always hear it. I’m going to claim my medal for *drumroll* raising a 3 year-old who says ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘you’re welcome’, & “I can help, Mommy!’
Um. Where the hell did my comment go? Cyberspace swallowed my words. Ugh. I will try not to read into this. As in, “GET OFF the computer, already.” Nope. I’m here. And obviously I could use your help in the manners department.
Jen, I like to call them “golden globes.”
OK. I just snorted orange juice. (Breakfast for dinner. See how I’m seeking for medals, today?)
I feel like today my son is my medal. That I’ve been given this opportunity to raise and guide this soul. On my own no less and that he’s (objectively of course) the brightest light I’ve met. My shiny medal. Even on those days when I am completely lost in the middle of the mess of momminess and housecleaning and going to a job I don’t like so I can give him as much of me as I can. On those days when I’m drained and want to drop kick him out of the door to come back with a less fresh mouth and on those days when I can’t really believe how amazing he and who he is becoming.
I know the whole spectrum of mothering is beyond what I even thought it could be. You are right…. it manages to encompass the most mundane and the most profound. It is our most passionate, intense, difficult, wonderful job. So, today I am looking at him as my medal. Priceless.
Rachel. You are so eloquent. There are tears in my eyes. We sacrifice so very very much for our kids. So much of ourselves and our own wants and needs and desires. And you are so right. We are rewarded by the things our children do. But also, and much more importantly, we are rewarded just for the having of these kids. Just for THEM. They are the truest of all medals. And, really, I am sad that I have met yours only once, so many many years ago.
I’m not a mother yet, but I am an aunt to a solitary niece whom I love dearly! She always makes me smile, even when she’s sleeping. I’m smirking now, recalling her lit-up face as I walked into her birthday party nearly a month ago. My little doll.
I did, however, have to reprimand her for the first time this past summer. (She’s 2 now, btw) I did NOT like to do it but I know children do not learn without discipline. It was only about a minute before we were playing happily again.
I call her my “practice baby” as I await the day my own babies arrive. (Later. Much later.)
I LOVE that you are here. That we have readers who are moms to babes, toddlers, tweens, teens and up. And that we have at least one reader who isn’t yet a mommy but who has had itty bitty mommy experiences. Real experiences. Real practice. I love it. Your niece is lucky to have you. And you her. I hereby bestow on you the great mommy-to-be (later, much later) medal.
Graciously accepted! :o)
Here I am sitting in the Las Vegas airport, waiting for the next leg of my journey home. I have little time to construct a thoughtful response and the omnipresent, mind-numbing “music” from the slot machines all around me is sapping any creativity I might be able to summon up. I am remembering all those extemporaneous hugs and backhanded compliments, and remembering, too, how precious they were. I even wrote them down for awhile, but then I lost that journal in a move. No matter, it wasn’t the recording, it was the experience. And here’s the good, good news. Your children will grow up as mine have, and they will enrich your lives in untold ways, and make you happy, and cause you worry, and expand your universe exponentially, and you will be rewarded as you watch them follow in your footsteps, parenting the best they can. That is my biggest reward. Plane is here…better tomorrow.
Wowza. Mom! That is the highest compliment. That we have made it to parenthood and you are here to watch and help and guide and laugh and enjoy. We are so grateful for you, as are our kiddos. Oh, GG, you are the very best. Happy traveling. See you soon!
Great post. I think the hugs are medals too. It is basically the best I can hope for given that mothering is often a thankless job!
It is so often thankless. You are so so right. But then some cutie like yours goes and jumps in your lap and hangs his weight around your neck, right? And it’s delicious. My baby is the best hugger of them all. She just curls her little body around me, and I soak it in every time. I know soon enough she is going to be running away from me. :(
When I’m doubting myself (which probably happens to everybody who tries to do a good job) I just try to remember that God custom-made me to be my kids’ mom. Hopefully He equipped them with enough amnesia to forget most of my screw-ups, or maybe there will be so many that they can’t keep track of them all ;)
Kids do have amnesia, it seems. Or, maybe it’s just that they don’t get hung up on the stuff that isn’t really important. Their little brains are so busy soaking up knowledge and good stuff; and they are more able to let the other stuff go. We were all custom made. And it is truly amazing.
Oh, and WELCOME!
It is hard, sometimes, to see the medals when they come in the midst of all the other daily garbage. But I got a good one the other day at my 8th grader’s parent/teacher conference. All the teachers came in and told him what a kind, caring, thoughtful, and just general all around great human being he is. I’ll try to remember this gold medal on those days when I feel like I don’t deserve any medals at all.
You deserve a medal for parenting a medal-worthy kid. Have you met Jill, our tween-mom reader above? It’s amazing, when the kids have moments of true ADULT success. Little glimpses of the future adults they will become. Every one of them breaks my heart a little bit and makes it swell a little bit more.
Absolutely! My heart swell so much, hearing him praised like that. I’m so proud of who he is. And it breaks, too, thinking of how soon he’ll be an adult. He’s my oldest, so he’ll be the first to leave the nest, and I’m getting teary eyed just thinking about it right now! It’s a good reminder to enjoy the moments NOW, because everything changes so fast.
Medals are good. Medals are nice.
I think all moms deserve them. I consider my funny children my medal of honour. My little reminders that no matter what, I did something right with the two of them.
I also consider my daily Starbucks run a little medal too – my little treat that rewards me for making it through another day in one piece.
Well THERE you are! “My little reminders that no matter what, I did something right with the two of them.” And I love that you describe them as funny. I have a few funny children, too. They are a special breed.
Enjoy that coffee medal, too. It’s not in our budget these days, but I HEAR YA about the one-piece rewards.
So often I feel like the only time my work around here is visible is when it all falls apart. Who thinks of the laundry except when there are no clean panties? Who thinks of dinner except to eat it when it appears in front of them? So many plates I keep spinning and it’s only apparent when they come crashing down.
But now that I’ve got a big girl (almost 7!), I’m able to do things for her that we both acknowledge are GREAT. Like making good on her vision of a Halloween dressed as the original superhero Earth Girl. Or creating the perfect tea party with handmade favors for her birthday. Her incredible happiness about these things, the way that she says, “Mama! Everything is PERFECT!” That’s as good as a medal.
Oh, those words. “Everything is perfect!” What a sweetie!
So often I feel like the invisible mommy. And it’s so easy to indulge myself in those thankless frustrations. But, there are these three kids around here, always. And if I just look down and give them my undivided attention, they make me see the perfection in our chaos.
I had a brilliant (?) comment written that got sucked into space somewhere when I clicked “submit” and I just don’t have it in me to recreate it. I’ll summarize below:
You rock! Thanks for noticing, thanks for saying so, thanks for justifying my very existence! I appreciate the validation I receive through coming here to visit!
Oh Shana, that happened to me too on a reply to Becca up above! Just kills me when that happens. I have actually started copying my comments before submitting them because I’m so anal and don’t want to have to rewrite my sheer brilliance (insert laugh here).
So the second paragraph of your comment up there? Thank you so very very much. To feel validation through coming here? Is perfection. Really. It’s total awesomeness for me. Because that was my whole thought behind starting this Five for Ten business. We want and need to feel validated for all that we do. And also, for the time we take away from all of the needs to fulfill this one want of being online and in touch with one another. So thank you thank you thank you.
Sarah
What a fantastic post! I like to give myself medals daily for little things like showering before noon or having dinner ready by 5:00. Sometimes it feels like being a mother is so mundane, but there are so many treasures to account for. We are rearing children to become the future leaders of our countries. So, when I feel pretty unnoticed or undervalued I think about that task. It is worth it.
Yes! Showering before noon. Dinner ready by 5:00. These are not small feats. It’s funny, I think about all the juggling I have to do to get things done around here. Juggling that is constantly on my mind. Juggling that I don’t always appreciate – or feel is appreciated – until I see my husband try to take all the kids to the store, or manage to get to the doctor’s office on time with them because I have to work. Hmm, I was wondering where my next post was coming from (which I have to write ASAP) but I think I may have just found it. We’ll see….
I am the first one to beat myself up when things go wrong with my daughter! If she’s had a major tantrum/meltdown, 9 times out of 10 I wonder if I could have prevented it in some way. But then I remember, she’s four.. and I’m forty. Surely I should be the one to be logical about it? I think most of the time, parenting can be a thankless task – but none of that matters when she shows her appreciation. We could be colouring together, or more often, playing Lego, and she just tells me out of the blue that she loves me! I know thats her way of saying thank you for spending the time with me mummy… and its the best feeling in the world!
Welcome!!!
I like this: “And then I remember, she’s four… and I’m forty.” Yup. Isn’t it funny how we doubt ourselves SO much. Our kids ARE kids and are learning to navigate the world. And tantrums are, unfortunately, part of the learning process!
I’m already a day behind aren’t I? DO I LOSE MY MEDAL????
I’ll be reading every post, even if I’m slow, I know that for sure. :)
I HAVE often thought about moms deserving medals. But I do get mine in those hugs and kisses and I love you’s. I love this line in your post – “Even if I don’t always come in first place.” (and the rest of it too)
You do not lose your medal. We haven’t yet put up today’s post, so all is good! :)
And, here’s something funny: That line you like, I added it last. After the whole post was up there and Sarah said, “It’s good. Don’t add anything.” Nope, it was nagging at me.
So, thanks. :)
Shit, I’m late coming into this! I get the Booby Prize!
Last week, I totally deserved a medal. Miss D. ate a pint of blueberries, produced the turd that Ate the Rocky Mountains, plugged up the toilet, kept flushing the toilet, and flooded the bathroom floor with said “crap water.” Guess who got to clean up THAT little bit of pleasantry?
No no no. You’re all good. We haven’t posted today’s post yet, so you are within our terribly strict Five for Ten rules!
Oh, and thanks for sharing your blueberry story. Um, what mom hasn’t lived through that fantasy?
When M was about 10 months old, he was in his jumperoo having a hay-day. Daddy walks in and yells “What the hell is that?!?!?!” I look over and see M bouncing gleefully in a pile of poo that had crept out his diaper, down his leg, and he was smooshing into the carpet! All the while he is laughing and smiling ear to ear. I ended up derobing him, wiping him down and sending him up to a bath with daddy while I got to clean the carpet, the jumperoo, wash the clothes, and take a shower myself. I should have earned the freaking Nobel Poos Prize for that one!!
The first thing that came to mind when I thought I should get a medal for was my juggling acts as a new mother. This one time, at Mom Camp (just kidding) I was a new mom and juggling all that new mom’s do. But I have had to answer the call of nature,….while I was nursing a newborn, and taking a call from the pediatrician. Wouldn’t it be so cool if the baby was answering the call of nature while he was eating and wondering where the hell the smell was coming from? Oh, let’s hope, for baby’s sake, that the apple does fall far from he tree. That, or he’s screwed. So, anyone want to get to know me better. Maybe we can chat on the phone???? Any takers?
HAHA, love it and SO been there too! (well not THERE, but you get what I mean)
Oh, this is so true! And I love the comment about how it speaks to the inherent competition! But you know what else? It also speaks to why some parents (and it seems especially dads) have a hard time connecting with their very young babies. We all need feedback, praise, and “medals”. With a very young baby that is SOOO dependent and demanding and difficult to understand, we work SOOO hard to please them and meet a standard that we set and then get nothing in return (expect a brief amount of sleep… maybe). No matter how wonderful we try to be to them, they don’t offer much in return, not at least until that first smile. Even if it is for a fart, we all hold on to that first smile as our very first parenting “medal”. And from that day forward, the rewards keep coming.